


Five Times That Cameron Regretted Being on SG-1

by Lyrstzha



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-13
Updated: 2006-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrstzha/pseuds/Lyrstzha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mostly, Cameron loves being part of SG-1, but there're a few bumps along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times That Cameron Regretted Being on SG-1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ana_grrl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ana_grrl).



1) The first time, Mitchell is just sorry because the SG-1 he thought he was joining isn't there anymore. If he'd known it was just going to be him and maybe some _robots_ or something—okay, maybe the robots are a little nifty in concept, Cam will cop to that, but realistically speaking, what the hell?—he'd have just asked for a spot on one of the other SG teams. He'd even have taken a place with SG-15, which everybody—everybody over a certain security clearance level, anyway—knows is cursed.

He's never done a job anything like this before, and his greenness is a lot more worrying when he thinks about running the flagship team without any of the luminaries who made it legendary. The specter of this thought makes a knot in Cameron's belly that has nothing to do with the awful pie in the commissary, and adds force to his persistent attempts at persuasion with Jackson and Carter and Teal'c.

Later, Cameron begins to strongly suspect that is exactly why General O'Neill sent him off to the SGC without telling him about SG-1's dissolution. Cameron thinks that the wily old bastard just doesn't like to think of his old team broken apart and scattered to the four winds, even if he can't be there with them anymore. Cameron comes to suspect this because he's starting to think he'd feel the same way himself.

2) The second time is Landry and the whistling ducks. Because seriously, _Landry and whistling ducks_.

"You people are the coldest, most vicious backstabbers on the planet. I can't believe you threw me to the wolves like that," he tells his team over the card table, after all the excitement is over. "Did I mention the whistling ducks? And the bonding?"

They all grin at him—okay, on Teal'c it's more of a slight curve of a smirk, but still—and don't look the least bit repentant.

"Sometimes you have to take one for the team," Daniel offers with a shrug. "Did you miss that in the fine print when you signed on?"

Nodding, Sam adds, with a flourish of the cards she's shuffling, "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll let you win a hand."

Cameron rolls his eyes at them. "It's enough to make a sane person sorry he joined up with this circus." He hides his smile in his beer.

Vala just pats his hand and says brightly, "I know exactly how you feel. I used to be quite sane myself."

Cameron snorts at that and ends up inhaling his beer accidentally. All four of them pound his back entirely unhelpfully until he can fend them off.

The second time doesn't really count, because he doesn't mean it, not at all. But Cameron locks the memory away like a precious thing, because he wasn't sure that it was something he'd ever feel secure enough with them to joke about.

3) The third time it happens, Cameron is sparring with Teal'c. They're trying some non-lethal pins and holds, and Cameron really should have thought that through before he decided it sounded like a good idea. He's half-hard even before Teal'c tosses him casually onto the floor on his back and drops down on top of him like a well-built avalanche. Cameron can feel one of Teal'c's broad hands locked around his wrists, Teal'c's thighs curled around his own, Teal'c's remaining hand wrapped around his throat just beneath the jaw. The warm thumb lies almost at the corner of Cameron's lips, almost close enough to close his mouth on it.

Cameron's hips buck just a little, grinding up against Teal'c's own, before he can think of things like rules and fraternization and chains of command. He stills himself with a sharp breath, and, just for a moment, he wishes they weren't teammates.

Teal'c draws back a bit, the better to look Cameron in the face. He arches an eyebrow thoughtfully and doesn't move any farther away. "Indeed," he says, but it sounds like _yes_, or maybe _now_.

He slides his thumb up that last inch to press firmly into the wet warmth of Cameron's mouth.

And Cameron decides that there really isn't anything like a normal chain of command in his team anyway.

4) The fourth time, Cameron is standing awkwardly in front of the elevator just behind the security checkpoint at the SGC, covered in dirt and bruises and blood. He's been trying to work out what to say all the way up from the infirmary, but nothing he can think of will make this any better.

Jack O'Neill walks heavily towards him, looking older than Cameron remembers. The bones of O'Neill's face seem sharp and naked somehow, making his blank, tight expression look more like melting ice sculpture than anything else. It isn't until Cameron's mumbled a greeting, saluted, and slipped into the elevator alongside O'Neill that he notices Jack's pupils are blown wide and dark, the only open thing about him now.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Cameron says, because he is, but he winces at the inadequacy of it. "General Landry told you about the Prior's weapon and what he...?" There's no gentle way to finish that sentence; Cameron knows, because he's already tried several versions of it in his head.

"Yes," Jack answers low and rough, still staring straight ahead at the steel doors and not looking at Cameron at all. "He told me. Carter and Teal'c?"

"Still in the infirmary, Sir. Doc says they'll be okay." Cameron quashes the nagging impulse to explain why he isn't hurt so badly himself, as if he needs to excuse his unmarred flesh.

Jack jerks his head in a sharp nod that looks like it hurts his neck. "Good. That's good." Something about the way he holds himself looks so taut that it makes Cameron's jaw ache in sympathy.

Cameron shifts uncomfortably beside the unnaturally still Jack, finally clearing his throat after another moment of descent. "I just want you to know that he was—"

Finally Jack looks at him, those gaping pupils unbearably open and stripped, reminding Cameron of the queasy, wrong feeling of peering into a deep wound and seeing the soft shapes of things which should be hidden beneath the armor of flesh and bone.

"_Is_. He's. Not. Dead," Jack grates out, unequivocal and absolute, all ferocity and faith. "I don't care what you saw. What you think you saw. He always comes back."

Cameron is a strong man, and a brave one; he looks Jack in the eye without flinching. But there's nothing he can answer to that, nothing he can offer, and he wishes, just for this moment, that it wasn't his place to try.

5) The fifth and final time Cameron is sorry he ever joined SG-1, he is running through the gate, looking back over his shoulder as he dives through the event horizon. His last sight of Earth is the gateroom, cold metal walls washed in the active wormhole's rippling silver light, ranks of soldiers pulled tight behind them to offer whatever precious few seconds' shield mere bodies can provide.

If Cameron weren't on SG-1, he'd stay, fight for Earth. His duty would be a manageable compass. He can see the shape of that burden easily, in a way that he can't divine the one he has now. If he stayed, he'd fight and fall as a simple solider and never need to feel responsible for _fixing_ all of this; the galaxy wouldn't hinge on his shoulders, and he would know exactly what to do.

But now he leaves with his team one step ahead of the Ori, half a dozen desperate schemes hastily mapped out for them to try, none of which sound viable. Cameron can't shake the feeling that someone else might be of more use to his team, could find the right answer in time. SG-1 saved the world from so many catastrophes before he came along that it's just impossible not to think that this failure isn't his fault somehow.

Cameron wonders what Jack O'Neill might have done differently, but he never gets the chance to ask.


End file.
